


I've got you, Dean.

by PeachieX



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crying!Dean, Dean needing Sam, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Frottage, M/M, Sam comforting Dean, Wincest - Freeform, brief beginnings of a panic attack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-09
Updated: 2013-03-09
Packaged: 2017-12-04 17:37:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/713298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeachieX/pseuds/PeachieX
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in season 5 after Dean kills Zachariah. Dean finds himself in a quiet moment in a motel room, drinking and pretty much feeling sorry for himself. Sam comes back to the room after some time has passed, and finds Dean drunk but deep in thought. He thinks this may be his chance, to finally clear the air between them, personally. Maybe Dean will talk to him, even for a moment, so they don't have to face, what they both know is coming, alone. What he doesn't realize, is Dean has some things to say to Sam instead, finally releasing some of the tension he's kept pent up for so long.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I've got you, Dean.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me be quick: This was a request from a friend, I dabble in writing and even more infrequently dabble in Fanfic, never Supernatural fic. So when she said she really wanted to see something like this, I decided to have a go at it, cause I'd like to write more fanfic...probably not always wincest, this just happened to be the nature of the request.  
> Anyway: Seriously, this is my first posting, so I apologize if I royally fuck this up. There are some canon divergences, and I'm pretty sure I over use commas like woah. I hope you enjoy it as she did. 
> 
> This is basically the story of how Sam and Dean finally make amends before the end of Season 5, it's a story about one of the rare times, Dean has to lean on Sam. It touches into Sam's guilt regarding Dean, and Dean's anger that turns into sadness in regard to Sam. 
> 
> This is not Beta'd, so please excuse any mistakes.

 The bottle of jack slipped from his fingers, ¾ empty and sloshing slightly out of the bottle as it collided and fell to its side. With a deep sigh Dean ran his hand over his face, vision blurry, he stared up at the ceiling. Could be the ceiling of any Motel he’s been in over the years, pale yellow with smoke stains, deep rusty circles from random roof leaks over the years, it was familiar it was the closest to home he’d ever get. Home. With Sammy. 

Always, Sammy.

 He’d been angry, so damn angry, at Sam. Then the hits just kept coming, the Angels, Adam, the beginning of the _Apocalypse._ He just needed a minute, just needed to breathe, he couldn’t stop being angry. So on those nights when there was down time, when he wasn’t actively searching or fighting or _hunting_ , he drank, as much as he could, as fast as he could. Chasing after numbness, anything to prevent himself from feeling so fucking lost.    
  
He used to mix it up with women, sick satisfaction watching Sam’s jaw clench as he left the room to wait in the Impala, laptop in hand. After a while even that became too much, he didn’t want to hurt Sam, not like that. He didn’t trust Sam, hell, he barely even trusted himself. It’s the reason he feels so utterly lost, without his anchor, _without his Sam_. They still hunted, still put their heads together to fix the apocalyptic mess they faced. At the end of the day their conversations were stilted, impersonal, consisting of grunts and replies and zero eye contact.

 

That’s what hurt the most.

Sam found Dean in the exact same position an hour later when he returned to the room. Dean’s eyes still plastered to the ceiling, unfocused and far away. 

“You got whiskey on the floor.” Sam said softly, sitting on his bed next to Dean’s, scratchy motel fabric running under his hands as he tightened his fingers over the side of the bed. Startled out of his thoughts Dean looked at Sam, really looked, their eyes met, open and raw. Dean noticing the same look he’s seen on Sam’s face for weeks now, soft, careful and scared. Searching for Dean to reassure him, to tell him that no matter what happens, they are going to be OK. At least they’ll have _each other_. 

“Dean…” Sam’s voice searching, needing some kind of read on where Dean was in his headspace, they had to talk. Sam couldn’t do what needed to be done, not without trying to fix this, without at least getting Dean to _talk_ to him. Dean ran his hand over his face; he was sitting up now, staring at the bottle of Jack and the wet spot on the floor. Eyes focused, hands clenched tightly in front of him as he leaned into his elbows on his knees.  
  
 

Sam watched his older brother, even as guarded as he had become with Sam, he was still less guarded than with anyone else. The tension in his shoulders was smaller, just a bit, his hands turning white as he clenched them.  
  
Sam sighed and leaned forward, putting his hand on Dean’s shoulder. The outside of his knee brushing against his older brother’s “Dean…I, just...” Sam began. “Sammy. I’m going to say this once and I want you to hear me.” Dean’s voice quiet and still no less than a shot through the dark, setting Sam’s heart to a rapid pace, he couldn’t move, barely breathing, anything he could do to make sure Dean said what he had to say, to not make him close off again. Savor the moment.

The alcohol spins through his blood, he knows he has to get ahold of himself now, before Sammy sees just how _broken_ he’s become. His thoughts are coming faster than he can put words to them; the dam breaking inside of him comes sudden and as a surprise forcing a loud gasp out of his mouth. Head in his hands he leans forward, not sure what’s happening but suddenly everything is just so overwhelming, his hands feel wet he pulls them back to see his tears. He would have been less surprised to see blood ( _even though he has no wounds_ ), because as fucked as that is, that’s his life. That’s just a part of the Dean Winchester charm, blood was a part of the golden _fucking_ package.

He’s reaching out as a sudden sob tears from his chest; he knows he needs to speak, needed to say something to Sam, something that was _breaking_ him to get out. His hand grabs onto Sam’s arm, his brother sits stunned with his eyes wide, not sure what to do. In all the years Sam wasn’t sure what to do if Dean broke, because he _never had_. Sure, emotional moments, tears in the corners of his eyes he tries to hold off, when Dean came back from hell he watched his brother mourn a loss of himself, and accept his own deep seeded self-loathing. But this, this was different and Sam didn’t know what to do. When he was lost, Dean found _him_ , and despite Sam’s reasoning to himself, when Dean needed him the most, Sam chose _her_.

 

“Sam… Sammy… I want to tell you why I changed my mind.” voice shaky, tears still running Dean closed his eyes, and Sam watched as he tried to breathe but couldn’t, he couldn’t get his breathing to level out so his words came out stilted and rushed. Sam finally shifted closer, his brother’s legs in between his own, wrapping his hand behind Dean’s neck bringing their foreheads together in the middle.

Dean took a deep fluid breath instantly, and in a few moments he was breathing normally with the exception of random breathy hiccups. “I need you to know, I saw you there looking at me, and even after everything. It was _us_. I couldn’t, save the world, save Dad, save Adam, save _you_. After all of that, I just couldn’t disappoint you, not again, even after everything, not again.” Dean’s hands now grip the back of Sam’s neck and shoulders, desperate and twitching. Wanting to lose himself in Sammy, but hesitant and unsure,

 “Never disappointed, sometimes hurt, but I’m always proud, proud of _you_ ; Dean, even her, she was for you it was all to save you. I was wrong, so _so_ wrong but Dean it’ll always be _us_.” Sam’s face running along the side of his brother’s, murmurs soft but sure,

 “ _Sammy.”_ Dean still sounding so broken, desperate and needing, “Dean… _Dean_.”  A litany breathed across his older brother’s cheek, running his lips softly down his jaw. Worshiping him, after everything, Sam wanted this, wanted to be the one to stitch his brother back together _again._ Dean, selfless and brave, the one who kept him safe; even now, even _then_ , all the times he didn’t deserve it and there was Dean, and now here was Sam trying to give back even a fraction of what he’d been given. 

 Dean made the move forward pushing Sam back on the bed and covering him, mouths resting together, breathing each other in. Their eyes locked, desperate, as Sam runs his hands along Dean’s face, wiping at the tears that are still falling down his older brother’s face.  His hands wet as he slips his fingers through the older man’s hair, pulling their heads together forcefully. The desperation reaching a peak, sucking and nipping, in control and completely out of it, Dean pushing his pelvis into Sam’s, they both moan deep and loud. The youngest pushes up from the bottom, getting enough room to pull his shirt off, his eyes never leaving his brother’s; an entire conversation spoken in stares and fingertips pressed into skin, it was their way. _Always_ has been.

Dean mirrors the action, ripping his shirt off while Sam scrambles for their belts; they know they have time; they just don’t want to take it. They had only been like this once since the older brother’s trip to hell, always bubbling at the surface pushed down with women, hunts, alcohol and even demon blood. Their pants get tangled around their hips, just barely enough room to get their cocks free, Sam’s hands return to Dean’s hair, pulling their mouths together, sucking at his brother’s tongue, pushing his hips up for something, _anything_.

“I missed this...” Dean spoke into his brother’s mouth, voice wrecked from crying or kissing, “Always so needy Sammy, always want it so bad, don’t you.” Bowing his back the younger hunter calls out his brother’s name, knuckles white clutching at the sheets as Dean bites onto his earlobe, pulling it into his mouth. “I’ve got you Sammy…” He says as he drops down, finally pushing their cocks together, wrapping his hand around them both. It’s dry at first, but gets better quickly as they both pump precome into his hand slicking the way.  
  
The room is quiet except for their fast breathing echoing off the walls; reverently their names are repeated in between biting kisses. This is when everything makes the _most sense_ , when they _don’t need anything else_. They wouldn’t even care if the whole world burned down around them as long as they were here, right here, _consumed_ by each other. It’s all that mattered; it’s all that ever mattered.  
  
  “Come on Sammy, let me see you.” Dean’s eyes trained on his face, heavy lidded but focused. Pulling at Sam, friction against his own cock rolling through him in waves he watched Sam’s teeth clench and eyes shut, he was beautiful like this, his cry out is wild and drawn out as his orgasm rushes through him. The older hunter climaxing quickly after, mouth more pressing into than kissing his younger brother, calling out his name while he falls into the body beneath his writhing and pushing into it, while white fireworks burst behind his eyelids.

They clean up and crawl into the clean bed; holding his younger brother close, Dean quickly slipped into sleep. Sam watches him for a while, eyes scanning the relaxed face of his brother, he thought of everything Dean had done for him, everything he could never repay. Suddenly he had a thought, everything became clear, and he made a decision. Tightening his hold on Dean he whispered “It’s OK, _I’ve got you Dean_.”

This was the night Sam decided to say _Yes_ to Lucifer.

 

 

 


End file.
